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Scout's Honor Rescue is an all-breed, no-kill, Not-For-Profit 501(c)(3) animal rescue organization committed to bringing courage, character and compassion to Houston's homeless pet population and making a positive difference in the lives of these stray and abandoned animals and the Houston community as a whole. 100% of every dollar donated goes directly to saving the life of a homeless animal.

I got out of bed this morning and nearly fell over, because my leg muscles wanted to show me what it would be like if they went on strike. Apparently, being a manny means I'll never have to "do legs" at the gym. I spent Tuesday and Wednesday doing squats, plies, grande plies, and jogged in place for several miles trying to get Boss Lady Hanley to calm down. Tuesday was a fussy day. I thought she was going to fire me, because apparently I couldn't do anything right by her. I knew she wanted to take a nap, but she was bound and determined to prove me wrong and refused to do so. Any time I tried to sit down to rock her to sleep, her face would turn red, her lip would quiver, and her body would seize up and start to rock, which meant she was three seconds away from rocking back in my arms and slamming her face into my shoulder. Seems like a rather painful way to stay awake to me, but it's what she does. So, to avoid that happening, I'd have to jump up and get moving again. Then I'd try the vibrating bouncy chair. No dice. Sometimes she likes to lie on her changing table and see what's going on in her room, so I tried that. She screamed as though I lay her on a bed of nails. Her eyes bore into my heart like a poker and I could almost hear her screaming, I'm gonna puke on your mom, bitch! People who eat basil are lame! While I had her on the changing table, I checked her diaper. Dry, damn it. I made a bottle, but she refused it and then promptly passed out on my shoulder for two hours, thus rendering the bottle ineffective for later use. Bitch.

Wednesday was a completely different day. I was greeted with smiles and happy chattering. What the boss lady was so happy about I had no idea, because she still refuses to speak in English. While she busied herself staring at a mobile and listening to Bach, I read a book. Every now and then she'd call me over to jiggle the mobile. The mobile troubles me, because it has two donkeys, one green and one blue, and one red elephant. There seems to be some sort of Democrat/Republican propaganda message in Hanley, Inc.'s mobile that I can't figure out. Whatever it may be, Hanley loves it when I make the donkeys spin. Unfortunately, what I thought was going to be a happy day suddenly turned bad when Satan entered her body after lunch. Again, everything I did was wrong and dissatisfying. Paint was curling on the walls, threatening to fall off from the screaming, and I wanted to cry. I've been yelled at at jobs before, but when you can't understand a word your employer is saying, and they're red-faced and wailing with such emotion to boot, it's horrifying. Just as I was ready to scream, "You're lucky I'm not British!" the CEO burst into the nursery to help me out. Thank goodness. Later, we realized the boss lady was constipated. Shit.

After the shit fit, Hanley passed out for three hours. When she woke, I scooped her up and grabbed the bottle I had ready and waiting. After she drank she belched like a sailor and was content to lie on my shoulder for a while, her soft downy scalp grazing my cheek. Bliss.